


Work on New Year's Eve (AU)

by Leptailurus



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, alternative universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-23 09:50:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14329848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leptailurus/pseuds/Leptailurus
Summary: Pharah is a waitress for one of the most fancy restaurants in town. On Christmas, she is scheduled to work and does not mind much. Things go smoothly until her coworkers Olivia and Lena tell her about a mysterious blond woman who eats alone at their fancy restauant every year on Christmas. Who is the mysterious visitor and what compells her to book a table for one person at the most fancy restaurant in town every year?





	Work on New Year's Eve (AU)

**Author's Note:**

> Oh my god. Yes, I am alive.
> 
> First of all, apologies. I could write a long story about where I have been and why I haven't been writing, but I will make it as short as I can and then answer some questions I would anticipate from readers who know me.
> 
> So, last August, my father died. This was preceeded by driving back and forth between him and my apartment every weekend for many hours. This was followed by funeral and inheritance matters, for which my girlfriend flew in from the USA (I live in Germany) to support me. The day after she left, the week after a funeral, I took one of my cats to the vet and was called later that day that they suggest to put her down as she has cancer. I never saw my cat again. I was floored with two kinds of grief, the hardest being the loss of my father (and I still can't grasp it).
> 
> My brother is in a bad psychological condition on top of that and it only worsened with my father's death. We are having a very hard time dealing with him (as he doesn't accept his own problems), so this eats up some of my free time and a heckload of my well-being. Add to that that my job contract is running out and I need to find a new employer - while simultaneously, I am doing such a good job in the job I have that I am constantly increasing the work load on myself. I used to work 8am to 8pm, now I often cannot get by unless I work 7am to 10pm. I am overworked, grieving, worried about so many things, googling jobs, apartments and how to marry my girlfriend - because the one ray of hope in my life is getting engaged with clear marriage plans (that will last two years because yay, greencard process!). It is not the only good thing that happened to me lately - the job search is overall very positive, if draining, for example. So even when I do find the time to write, I am either too busy or too exhausted to write - and when I am not either of those things, I am often too caught up in my own thoughts to feel inspired.
> 
> Apologies.
> 
> Now to any question:
> 
> Will I write? Always.
> 
> Will I continue the stories I started? I hope so. It requires re-reading what I have written - which takes time and motivation that I am still seeking at this time. I am hoping things will get better once I have settled on a new job and started that new job as well. I haven't forgotten. I never forget what is still on my to do list. If I chose to abandom something, I will do it consciously. I have not chosen to abandon anything yet.
> 
> Thanks for reading and enjoy the story. It's fluffy.  
> I started this in December - hence the Christmas/New Year's Theme.
> 
> \---

\-- Work on New Year's Eve (AU) --

“There is still one spot left for New Year‘s Eve. Amari, how about it?“

 

A knowing smile crossed Fareeha‘s tanned features - she had seen it coming, but she had already made her decision. “Not a chance.“

 

“Oh, come on! I could use someone fresh, young and… versatile.“ He took a long pause, watching her, almost staring her down, but she did not budge. “Also. Bonus pay.“ He presented it in a tone that revealed it as the lure that it was.

 

“I‘m already working today,“ she reminded him. “That‘s enough bonus for me.“

 

“You don‘t even celebrate Christmas!“ he complained. “I should scrap that bonus and pin it onto your New Year‘s pay.“ They all knew very well that he couldn‘t. But it was a cute try. However, the rules in September had been pretty clear - it was either Christmas or New Year‘s. It was one or the other and only illness could get you out of it - and additionally earn you the scorn of whichever coworker would have to jump in for you.

 

She shrugged with an air of fake regret. They were  _ his _ rules after all. Jordio sighed dramatically, a hand running over his clean shaven skin because this desperate attempt had not solved his understaffing problems for New Year‘s in the least. Any other newbie would have budged, but Fareeha was almost insolently confident and annoyingly married to any rules. He would have to find another way. Get someone untrained and hope for the best, maybe. 

 

He decided to move on.

 

“Our soup of the day is clam chowder. If asked, you will recommend the Beaune du Château with it.“ He lifted his hand as if he was smelling a tissue that was dabbed with the finest perfume and began swooning: “You’ll describe it as fruity with a dash of honey and nut, lemon and the faintest ghost of bourbon vanilla.“ 

 

“Oh dear god!“ Olivia rolled her eyes, promptly receiving a subtle slap from Fareeha to shut her up. It wasn‘t that Jordio could not take fun, but he had little patience right before the doors were opening and when he was under time pressure.

 

“For the main course, we have a choice of Gray Horned Heath Sheep Filet flavored with rosemary and a side of heath potatoes with an intense, yet non-starchy flavor. If asked, the taste of the meat is less that of a lamb, but more that of mild venison. With this main course you will recommend-“

 

Fareeha listened carefully, while others, as per usual, memorized the information in their own special ways, typing, scribbling or repeating the words under their breaths.

 

-

 

“Here‘s your lemon meringue cake and your chocolate surprise,“ Fareeha offered with a smile and poured hot vanilla sauce over the chocolate dome as she had been taught to, her face cheerful and her legs and arms aching sweetly from all the work she had put into things today. The dome unfolded like a flower, drawing the expected sounds of surprise and excitement from the patrons. She withdrew her hands, wished them good dessert and returned to the kitchen with calm, but speedy elegance.

 

Every time, no matter how often she did it, she was amazed by the moment as she pushed through the doors. It was the entrance into the world of the kitchen that stood in sharp contrast to the dining world one she had left. It still managed to surprise her after all these weeks. The calm, sleigh-bell supported music was replaced by the hectic clank of pots and dishes, shouts echoing over the boiling pots, sizzling pans and chopping knives against wooden boards. Instructions were bouncing off the tiled walls under bright white lights that held no resemblance to the dim lit and carpeted dining area. 

 

“Chicken for table four! - Five minutes!“

 

“Chopped parsley, fresh onions, please!“

 

“We‘re missing a Chardonnay here!“

 

Fareeha approached the counter. “Salmon for table seven?“ She peeked under a cover, but dropped it immediately when she saw Jordio glancing over, sending him a not-so-guilty grin. She was not supposed to do that - there were other ways to tell which dish was which. “Salmon for table seven?!“ she repeated.

 

“Three minutes!“

 

Olivia brushed the doors open, bringing a tray with half-eaten food. “I could kill her. It‘s been sitting there for six minutes and I‘ve been running credit cards! What do we have her for?“ She dunked the tray by the sink and peeked at the counter. Her order wasn‘t there, either.

 

“Hey, I just saw her change her apron,“ Fareeha tried to calm her down. “Seems she got a stain on it and you know she can‘t go out there looking untidy.“ She made sure Jordio was too distracted to hear her say it.

 

Olivia shrugged annoyedly, like it really wasn‘t her problem - which it really wasn‘t.

 

“Hey, think she‘s gonna come?“ the kitchen maid asked the other waitress, her tone excited and gossippy. If Jordio caught her, she‘d be pulled by the ears, but her careful side glances told Pharah that she was well aware of the threat. 

 

“Haven‘t seen her yet, but I‘d bet my liver for it. She‘ll be there, alone as ever,“ Olivia replied.

 

“What are you two talking about?“ Fareeha asked the other two women.

 

“Blondie,“ the kitchen maid provided with a grin. “She eats here every Christmas - alone. Nobody knows why, but it‘s been four years now.“

 

“You‘ll see, newbie,“ Olivia grinned knowingly, poked Fareeha‘s nose and picked up her order. As the other waitress turned and left, the salmon for table seven finally appeared on the counter. She picked both orders for the table up and headed for the door. Well, whoever Blondie was, she was sure going to swipe a credit card through that machine at some point and that would secure Fareeha‘s bonus for the night. Given the amount that would be taken off that card, she‘d probably expect excellent service. Standing around gossiping wasn’t going to get her that, so she made sure to get her work back on track.

 

-

 

“Goodness, it‘s finally dying down some…!“ Fareeha took a breath.

 

“She here yet?“ The kitchen maid appeared by the counter out of nowhere.

 

Fareeha rolled her eyes. “Lena, you are obsessed. And no, I haven‘t seen anyone that fits the description - and I don‘t care. My shift ends in-“ she glanced at the clock. “-five minutes. And then I‘m out of here and you can keep pestering ‘Sombra‘ about it.“

 

“You are no fun, really,“ Lena complained.

 

Olivia pushed through the doors, hands full. “New guest. Katie is on break - can someone get it?“ 

 

“I‘ll go.“ Fareeha conceded and used the back swing of the door to slip through. She walked up to the counter and greeted the young woman who was waiting by the stairs. 

 

She was dressed fittingly for the establishment, wrapped in a red dress and a matching blazer, but not particularly donned up, unlike most who came here. The patron‘s simple, yet elegant attire was a pleasing sight, in fact - too many customers got so excited about having a table at the restaurant on Christmas with their partners, they vastly overdid the whole dressing up and make up thing. 

 

“Welcome to the Bloom & Carlton, mam. Do you have a reservation?“ Fareeha asked. 

 

“Yes, I do,“ she replied, her voice quiet and friendly. 

 

Fareeha opened the book with controlled haste. “May I have the name for the reservation, please?“

 

“Ziegler,“ she replied. “With a Z.“ The helpful addition seemed to be born out of habit and necessity. 

 

Fareeha glanced to the bottom of the page, getting stuck there for a moment. “Table for one?“ she asked, trying not to sound incredulous.

 

“That‘s correct,“ she confirmed, smiling gently. Without a doubt, this person was that so-called Blondie - only, she was ways off from the old, dirty-blond lady that Fareeha had pictured in her mind, widowed and coming here in memory of her deceased husband. She looked like she should have been here on a serious date, at least.

 

Trying to look friendly and to stay in control of her surprise, Fareeha grabbed a menu. “Please follow me, Miss Ziegler.“ She was almost hoping that the lady would correct her on the use of “Miss” - it felt wrong she should not at least have been married before. It would have been sad or romantic, if she came her in memory of a lost partner, at least. But no objections came forth.

 

“Your waiter will be right with you, mam.“ 

 

Miss Ziegler nodded with a smile and took the offered chair. Fareeha took Miss Ziegler’s coat and hung it up, making sure there was as much free space around as she could grant it, so the snow would dry off more easily.  As Fareeha left for the kitchen, Blondie slowly opened the menu and began to read, bright hair illuminated by the candle that reflected in the one lonely plate before her. The soft bells in the Christmas music were imitating the snow falling outside. Quietly. Peacefully.

 

Fareeha stepped through the doors. “Jordio!“ 

 

“What, Amari?!“ He would have sounded upset to anyone unfamiliar with him, but beneath the tone, Fareeha could well hear how pleased he was. He probably had just taken a look into the earnings of the day and enjoyed what he had seen.

 

“I need - I need twenty more minutes of work!“ Fareeha puffed out.

 

He glanced at the clock. “What now? You signed up for eight hours, your shift is over, most patrons are gone. Olivia‘s got it covered.“ Leave it to Jordio to have memorized the schedule of all his damn workers

 

“Please - twenty more.“ She couldn‘t believe she was begging for work.

 

He gave her an interested and calculating look. “Sure. Do it for free,“ he said slowly, carefully observing her reaction.

 

She hesitated, realizing she should protest… say she needed that extra bit of cash, or that she had patrons that weren‘t leaving yet and she was waiting on the tip - something like that. Instead, she said: “Okay.“

 

-

 

She returned with a bread basket and a small plate of butter. “Can I get you started on something to drink?“

 

Miss Ziegler glanced up from her menu. “Do you have an open Grauburgunder?“ Fareeha did a double take at the word, feeling a breath of panic on the back of her neck. 

 

“Excuse me - could you say that again?“

 

The lady hesitated. “Oh. Pinot Gris.“ There was realization on her young features. She could hardly be older than twenty-five. What was she doing in a place like this - alone?

 

“Oh. Pinot - yes. We do have that.“ Fareeha could have sworn she sounded way more stupid than she had intended. “Uh—“ her whole concept of waiting cheerfully and confidently on her patrons was falling apart with every breath. “I- can get - Can I get you started on a salad or soup?“

 

“No, thanks.“ That accent. That perpetual, friendly, kind look on her face. Why on earth was she here  _ alone _ ? A second ticked by. Another. And a third. “I haven‘t decided on a main course yet,“ Miss Ziegler provided helpfully and Fareeha hotly realized she had overstayed her welcome at her patron‘s table.

 

She smiled awkwardly, nodded and turned to get the wine.

 

-

 

“She comes her  _ every year _ ?!“ 

 

“Aye. Two glasses of wine, no starters, one of the recommended main courses, dessert, goodbye,“ Lena provided. “Maybe she‘s got some sort of OCD. She just has to come here and do it every year the same way,“ she mused.

 

“Don‘t talk like that,“ Fareeha scolded. “You don‘t know her reasons.“

 

“Well, neither do you!“

 

That much was true. She decided not to dwell on Miss Ziegler‘s reasons too much and re-entered the dining hall with the cool bottle. However, despite her attempts to knock the thoughts out of her own head, she did dwell on it  _ a lot _ during the fifteen steps it took her to reach the lone table.

 

“Here‘s your Pinot Gris, mam.“ She poured it for her, listening to the sound of the liquid falling into the polished glass. 

 

“Thanks.“

 

“You are welcome.“ She forced herself to pause. “Have you been able to decide on a main course yet?“ She glanced at the closed menu on the table - in the very place, where another plate should have been sitting, with another person on the chair beyond.

 

“Can I have another minute? I know you are probably very busy, but I‘m still making up my mind between two recommended dishes.“ 

 

It was incredible that a patron would apologize to her for letting her wait. People came here with expectations - akin to an overplanned wedding - and were more likely to get annoyed when their dream bubble burst because something didn‘t quite match what they had pictured. Usually that something was their partner. Maybe that‘s why it was smarter to come here alone.

 

“Of course. I‘ll come back in a little and—“ She hesitated, and her stance faltered as she realized she was purposely and willingly going to break the rules. “I‘m sorry, mam. You don‘t have to answer, but my colleagues tell me you are coming here every year for Christmas and eat alone. May I ask why?“

 

She looked surprised, but not in an annoyed or unpleasant way. That sent endless jolts of relief through Fareeha. Jordio would have decapitated her for intruding so rudely upon a patron. 

 

“Thank you for asking,“ she acknowledged. “It is a bit of a story… and I do not have a short version. I‘d better not intrude upon your time.“

 

Fareeha hesitated. She wasn‘t sure whether or not the lady was telling her in kind to mind her own business, no matter the expression on her face. She decided to chance it, regardless. “I‘d take that moment, before or after you decided on your main course,“ she offered. To emphasize, she set the bottle down on the table and eased her stance.

 

There was a moment of positive surprise on the woman‘s face. 

 

“Okay.“ She thought for a moment, then begun: “I‘m a doctor at the university hospital.“ Fareeha knew which hospital she was talking about - it wasn‘t far. “I‘ve done my training there and was soon sent to the cancer unit. I was given responsibility for one patient, always under the watchful eyes of the attending doctor when it came to decisions on the treatment. For anything else, she was mine to take care of alone.“ Even though Fareeha was standing there, the young doctor was not rushing her story. She took a drink and glanced over at the window, in the general direction of the hospital. “She did not stand a chance against the sickness. Whether my attending wanted to teach my over-ambitious self a lesson or whether I was either unlucky or lucky to have her as my first patient, I cannot tell. But I learned that sometimes, you have to acknowledge that defeat is the kindest solution.“

 

Fareeha nodded solemnly. 

 

“She stayed throughout October and November,“ she continued. “We stopped the chemo, stopped the treatment and tried to make the rest of her short life as pleasant as possible. It was...difficult to learn that sometimes, you have to accept that there is nothing you can do.“ She paused. “When the year closed in on Christmas, I asked her whether there was anything she thought she had missed in life. Anything she wished for.“ A smile graced her features, like a ghost. “She did.“ 

 

Pearls of condensed water trickled down the wine bottle. Melting snow crawled down the windows outside in sympathy. Fareeha realized that it wasn‘t only the lone plate that the light of the candle‘s flame was bouncing off of. There was the dark blue night outside the window pane which held a reflection of the little flame - and another two were dancing in the blue of Dr. Ziegler‘s eyes.

 

“She said she had always known she wanted a girlfriend, but been too shy to find one. If she had ever found someone to date, she said, she would have taken her to the Bloom & Carlton for that famous Christmas dinner and treated her to an exquisite meal.“ She took another drink, slowly and thoughtfully. Even though Fareeha could sense a sad end to the story already, the lady‘s eyes betrayed no such feeling. She seemed content enough - like someone who finds peace in good memories, no matter what the circumstances.

 

“I agreed to take her out for Christmas, if she felt up to it. I had just scraped enough salary together to allow a visit to the Bloom & Carlton so it took some luck to actually get a table on such short notice. I took her there as a surprise and she loved every second of it.“

 

Fareeha suppressed a sigh. She could heavily feel where this story was going. “So… you were dating?“

 

“No,“ the young doctor replied easily and without regret or displeasure. “We agreed we weren’t each other’s type and giggled about our incompatibility. After all, it was just a date and some dates do not work out, just like it’s supposed to be. But I promised her before she died that when I‘d find another woman to date, I‘d take her here on Christmas in her stead.“

 

There was a pause, an unspoken question lingering in the air. “But you are here on your own…“ Fareeha carefully set it free.

 

Another ghost graced her features, but it didn‘t linger. It was a ghost of sadness and disappointment, but so faint and fleeting, it may as well have been imagination. “Dates are hard to find on a busy hospital schedule. At least those that will go so far as to offer their time to you on Christmas.“ She shrugged, dismissing the sadness of it all. “I guess I‘ll just bring Joy with me when I come here.“

 

It took Fareeha a moment to grasp that “Joy” was the patient‘s name. However, the answer was not satisfactory in the least. What about kind friends participating in the memory? Family? Or any other doctors? Had she even told them where she spent Christmas and why?

 

“And you would not have come here on your own, if anyone had agreed to join you?“ She might as well have quit outright for the conversation she was having with a patron, regardless of the fact that she was no longer on duty at this point. Her curiosity was taking the better of her and throwing all her care out of the window. She just couldn‘t stand not understanding this behavior. It couldn‘t be that hard to find just  _ someone _ to join her, if the destination was a fine restaurant that is completely booked months in advance.

 

“Yes,“ Dr. Ziegler replied. “Well - if it was someone I would go on a date with, I guess. I mean, no one hired, and no one too old or too young or so. … or really not my type.“ She thought on it for a moment. “Because Joy and I went with honest dating intentions, even if it didn’t work out.”

 

Fareeha took a deep breath. “What if I were to join you?“ A second passed and she realized how it sounded. “I mean - I would not want you to pay or anything, but- well, my shift has just ended and-“ Well, that sounded even more wrong. She had never meant to look like she was just taking pity on Dr. Ziegler. “Sorry, that didn‘t quite-“

 

“I‘d love to.“

 

“What?“ 

 

“I‘d love to have you join me for dinner,“ she repeated. 

 

Fareeha tried to keep the utter confusion that reply called up in her under some feeble sort of control. “You‘d love to - but…?“

 

“No ‘but‘. I‘d just love to,“ she repeated and it sounded kind and confident. It shifted Fareeha’s world by the tiniest margin. It seemed Dr. Ziegler‘s reasons to decline should have been overwhelmingly numerous. Making this offer, Fareeha was breaking a four year old tradition, suggesting her own actions were an act of pity though she had not meant to convey that, and opening up the potential to change the meaning of something precious. She was, after all, just a stranger who could well stain a perfectly good memory. And yet, Dr. Ziegler had not even hesitated to agree.

 

Half-minded in a shock, Fareeha unbound her apron. It wasn‘t until she had taken a seat that she realized that her actions would have consequences. Olivia would likely be the one waiting on them and the entire staff would end up having such a blast teasing her about this for weeks to come. She had no idea how Jordio would feel about it. And yet, here she was, sitting down at a table she had just been waiting on, at a restaurant way out of her price range, and saying: “I‘m Fareeha. You may call me Pharah.“

 

Dr. Ziegler held out her hand. Her grip was soft and warm, yet firm enough to convey confidence. “I‘m Angela. Friends call me Mercy.“ She smiled.

 

-

 

Mercy turned out to be an interesting and entertaining young lady. Nothing one would expect of someone who spent Christmas alone at a restaurant seemed to ring true. She had a positive outlook on life and a situational humor that was spontaneous and smart. The world decided to click into place instantly, helped a little by two or three glasses of exquisite wine. 

 

Before she knew what was happening to her, Pharah spilled her ambitions and dreams on the table - about saving up for a helicopter license or even something better, because then she could fly back and forth between her parents. She laid her innermost thoughts about righteousness and integrity bare and recounted memories of her biggest childhood crush. It was all too easy to talk to Mercy.

 

And in return, some secrets unraveled that added color and clarity within the lines of Fareeha‘s many questions. Where there was no family, there was no Christmas celebration, ‘Mercy’ explained. At least not, or so she put it, one where a third wheel would find a good niche. Yet, something compelled her to find beauty in moments of peaceful solitude that contrasted the hospital life, even when it should have brought her down to be so alone on such a day. She seemed to be an endless source of hope and acceptance, kindness and compassion. Fareeha could have listened to those philosophical moments forever, unsure whether her own forward-facing, action-seeking spirit wasn‘t too much for Angela in return.

 

“Why did you decide to work here - become a waitress?“

 

“I guess I‘m just a waitress for the time being. I mean, I haven’t learned it professionally. I like having and finding something to do. And here, regardless of how few or many patrons are around, there is always something you can find that makes things a little better. I just can‘t stand being idle.“ 

 

Mercy looked around. “You do realize that a place such a this usually doesn‘t hire that way... It makes me curious about how you got here, honestly.“

 

Pharah had an idea what Mercy meant. All the other waiters at the Bloom & Carlton where professional - or at least very experienced. She shrugged. “It‘s not like I started here.“ She glanced over towards the kitchen. “The boss just had a huge craving for pizza one day, I guess.“ She grinned guiltily. “He bought more than pizza that day.“

 

“Ladies - how about some dessert?“ Olivia was bringing the menu back to the table. Fareeha appreciated that the other waitress had not flinched even once. She even had calmly and professionally removed the apron Fareeha had so thoughtlessly discarded. And though Fareeha knew that none of this professionalism would last beyond the doors of kitchen, where gossip and giggles would run high, she was glad to be shielded from it for the time being. She‘d better find a way to leave Olivia a very generous tip.

 

“Oh, you should try the chocolate surprise!“ Pharah blurted out, then became aware of her surroundings and cleared her throat. “I mean, it‘s very good. And you can have it with raspberries.“

 

“You know the raspberries are our secret, Fareeha, right?“ Olivia chimed in, showing for the first time that she wasn‘t completely ignoring the fact that they were colleagues. Mercy grinned, catching the little poke at her date and liking it. 

 

“I‘ll think I‘ll have the chocolate surprise with raspberries,“ Mercy decided with an arched eyebrow.

 

Olivia noted it down with a grin and then took Fareeha‘s order for a small waffle. It was the cheapest dessert on the menu and she was becoming increasingly more aware that this meal was unexpectedly draining her funds. 

 

-

 

“I‘ll be right back,“ Fareeha excused herself. She would have postponed this moment indefinitely, but her body didn‘t exactly agree. It had been hours since she had visited the bathroom and the wine didn‘t make it any better.

 

Sure enough, Olivia and the kitchen maid were in there before she could even dry her hands. “Well, look at you,“ Lena snorted. “How‘s Blondie?“

 

Fareeha rolled her eyes. “Her name is Angela and she is a doctor,“ she replied annoyedly and took one of the small towels to dry her hands. 

 

“Oh, excuse me for not knowing you were dating a  _ doctor _ ,“ Lena mocked her, adjusting her stained apron in the mirror. 

 

“I am not  _ dating _ her,“ Fareeha retorted and, in that very same moment, realized that it was not true. This was indeed a date - Mercy herself had declared it as the only reason she would share a meal with anyone at the Bloom & Carlton today.

 

“Now look a that,“ Olivia chimed in sarcastically, “she gets to eat here once and she takes on alllll the snobbishness of the usual patrons.“ She sighed over-dramatically. “My fears are confirmed. It  _ is _ the place that‘s causing the arrogance syndrome.“

 

Fareeha threw the towel in her face. 

 

“Bet your fancy doctor‘s gonna pay your meal because she guesses you don‘t have the cash,“ Lena snorted.

 

“Don’t you dare think that Jordio will put it on the house,“ Olivia said, squishing Pharah‘s most irrational, yet somehow very persistent hope with the words. “He‘s not pleased. He‘s worried she‘ll come and give him a good old yell down for the insolence of his waitresses.“

 

“She will not— she— dammit,  _ I _ am going to pay for that damn meal.“ She figured keeping her job was the bigger deal here. She brushed past her colleagues and to the backroom where she found her locker and pulled out her wallet. Without a word she handed her credit card to Olivia. “Give yourself 15%.“

 

Olivia raised an eyebrow at her. Fareeha sighed. “And tell Jordio I‘m working New Year‘s… and that I want my bonus for it.“

 

She returned to the table, hearing Lena and Olivia break into giggles in the bathroom. 

 

-

 

Pharah got out of the taxi and told the driver to wait. Her breath was a white cloud in the chill air. She resisted taking Mercy’s hand to help her out of the car, but a growing feeling had taken ahold of her that suggested the woman was freakishly perfect. 

 

A positive spirit alone was endearing already - as was ambition. Mercy had plenty of both. Beyond that, her quick wit, that intelligent look from her beautiful blue eyes, those blond locks and that sweet smile only served to puzzle Fareeha further. She sure would have dropped everything to be on a date with her for Christmas or any other important holiday. How could it be that for four years, nobody else had? Was the world crowded with total fools?

 

Mercy had insisted on paying the driver, but it was nothing compared to the fortune Fareeha had just left at her work place. She tried not to think about it. That helicopter licence had just hopped another few months into the future. She could have suggested to split the bill, like she had originally intended. But she had panicked in the bathroom with Olivia and Lena on her back and Jordio‘s wrath around the corner. After the initial worry and confusion, she had figured she could have handled Jordio - after all, Mercy had enjoyed it and at best, her willingness to overstay her work schedule just to please a patron should have been seen positively. Only, back in the restaurant with Olivia and Lena teasing her, she had not been able to think that far.

 

Mercy stepped up on the sidewalk and turned towards her unexpected date. The doorway to a cozy apartment building was right next to them and from the directions given to the driver, Pharah already knew that they had arrived at the young doctor‘s place. 

 

“I can‘t thank you enough for what you‘ve done today,“ Mercy began. It was the unmistakable start of a goodbye. Fareeha had been breaking her brains over the fact when or if it would be appropriate to ask for Mercy‘s phone number. Granted, somewhere on the records, they already had it at the restaurant. But it was really not okay to take it from there.

 

“It wasn‘t a favor,“ Pharah replied, attempting a subtle, impish smile. “I really enjoyed it and I should thank  _ you _ for being able to get us a table in such a busy restaurant.“

 

It made her giggle cutely and - much to Fareeha‘s surprise - she laid a hand on her arm. It felt soothing, and not just because it was sore from carrying full plates all day. “Five years ago, Joy said she had no plans for what would happen after the date.“

 

It felt like something was knocking the air out of Pharah in that moment - she had no idea where this speech was going, but the potential was nerve-wrecking. She perked up, listening attentively.

 

“She said to never plan too much in advance because it would lead to disappointment.“ Mercy took a glance at the sky. It was cloudy with only small patches where one or two stars managed to outshine the city lights. It was no longer snowing, but it would again soon. “It‘s incredible and humbling how much someone younger can teach you.“

 

Fareeha‘s nerves felt so tense. What was Mercy even getting at? Was she just being philosophical again? “How old was she?“ It wasn‘t the best sentence to slip out at that moment, but some part of her felt pressed to keep the conversation going.

 

“She was twenty-two. She died in the morning on December 31st, only days after that date.“ 

 

Somehow Pharah felt she should have been ashamed for somehow managing to bring a friend‘s death into this moment, but Mercy - again - seemed at peace with the world. Yet, Pharah decided she needed to get away from such gloomy topics. “How did that date end? You never told me.“

 

Mercy smiled almost apologetically. “Not so spectacularly. I took her back to the hospital and started the night shift there.“ She lifted her bag and reached into it, taking out a set of keys. A little breeze brought the running motor of the waiting taxi over to them and to Fareeha‘s attention. She should not have told him to wait.

 

She needed to find something to say, and quickly. And it should definitely not be about Joy because that topic was just teetering on the edge of melancholy, despite Mercy‘s peaceful demeanor. “Is there anything else I can do for you, Mercy?“

 

She looked back at Fareeha, those bright blue eyes sending yet another jolt through the waitress. The inkling that she was stumbling right into the dangerous land of too much feeling grew into a certainty. 

 

“Don‘t forget me.“ 

 

There was a depth in those words and a profound, lingering tension in the smile accompanying it. She  _ expected _ to be forgotten. It was ungraspable to Fareeha - Mercy was not someone you‘d forget easily, and here she was, those eyes subtly begging her not to say ‘I could never‘, because the disappointment would be so much worse after that.

 

She laid her hand on Mercy‘s which was still on her arm, and sent her a thoughtful look. “You know…you and I meet many people every day. In our own ways, I think we might impact them more than we would ever know - you even more than me. But I get that it‘s a bit unsatisfying to never have the feedback.“

 

Mercy nodded, grasping the deeper meaning with ease. “I think you are right. I get surprised sometimes when someone returns and has a word or two to say about my impact on the past. It happens rarely, but it‘s very elating. Thank you for reminding me.“

 

Pharah nodded and smiled. The air was getting chilly and Mercy was obviously shivering in her thin pantyhose. Her coat only reached so far. Whatever chances they might have had of this going anywhere else, it had dwindled away with the breeze. 

 

“Have a good night, then,“ Fareeha offered. She was wrecking her head about what to add - from telling her that she knew where to find her, or the other way round, because they knew each other‘s work places, to offering her phone number, which might have been importunate. 

 

The moment stretched for a second too long until Mercy replied: “Thank you. You, too. I hope it isn‘t far. It has gotten late.“

 

Pharah smiled and shook her head. “It will be fine.“ Her head screamed at her to use this chance to casually drop her address. But nothing that contained house numbers and zip codes could ever be dropped casually. She couldn‘t even remember whether she had ever told Dr. Angela Ziegler what her last name was. 

 

With no options left, she turned to leave, raising her hand to wave. “See you, Angela.“

 

Mercy waved briefly and then turned to her building‘s door to unlock it.

 

The moment was gone.

 

\- - - 

 

There were days when Mercy wanted to start a global motion that phones and doorbells needed to be banned from the world because they were the cruelest devices ever invented. Radio and TV shows that praised the “end of the week“ on Friday and only knew “good morning“ between six and ten a.m. came in close second. 

 

However, she had to admit that she knew that ultimately, neither doorbells, nor phones or media were at fault for the fact that society only functioned properly by having core work times that were closely associated to daylight. Humanity could not bear to keep people who worked at night or in shifts in mind. Nobody who rang her doorbell at one p.m. had any chance of knowing she wouldn‘t be awake enough to appreciate it. It would have been more reasonable not to ring under the assumption that she was off to some dayjob - not because she was sleeping.

 

Regardless, she had figured that her best option when these disturbances  _ did _ happen was to get up and respond - otherwise she‘d only be disturbed another day or have twice the trouble with any consequences stemming from her ignoring whoever was pestering her. 

 

In her first weeks of residency at the hospital, she had gone through the stressed motions of slipping into pants and sweater and brushing through her hair, but it had taken her less than a year to drop the habit. Falling into panic to quickly get dressed only woke her up too much to get back to sleep afterwards - and it could never wipe away the squint in her eyes or that persistent residue of tired confusion, anyway. Not to mention pillow imprints on her cheek. The price for giving a damn about which delivery person would or would not catch a glimpse of her in her nightgown was too high to pay - and she always had the option to throw the word “late shift“ into any conversation to make it clear she was not a jobless drunk.

 

As per routine, she forced herself out from under the sweet, enticing, warm covers and dragged her tired body through the corridor to hit the buzzer by the door. It would take the delivery person a moment to get upstairs, so she took the time to wrap herself in a warm, dark red bathing robe and slip into worn out magenta bathroom slippers, yawning five times in the process. She was perfectly aware of the mismatch in color and could hardly have cared any less. Chances were, the unexpected disturbance was one of the three or four people who came here routinely on their rounds and who had gone beyond wondering what the heck was up with the blond woman in apartment 4a.

 

Soon enough, the doorbell rang again - the different tone of the chimes suggesting the person was now in front of her apartment door, rather than downstairs. She let out a good, long yawn before opening the door. 

 

Her stance went from slumped to rigid within seconds.

 

“Pharah!!!“ She most vividly saw the drawback about not caring how she would look when opening the door in that very moment.

 

Pharah was looking at her with big eyes.  “I‘m so sorry!“ she blurted out. “I can come back another time.“

 

Frankly, Mercy didn‘t exactly want her to leave. She was tired and hazy, but this was something she somehow knew right away. Sure, the circumstances were a bit unfortunate, but it was the positive surprise of seeing Fareeha that made the difference. She really had not expected the dark-haired woman would ever step into her life again - nor did she blame anyone for not following up on her. She did not follow up on anyone in return, either - she slept, worked and did the necessary, like grocery shopping. Nobody should have felt the need to try and follow her around when she couldn’t bring up the time to return the effort.

 

Now  - since the disaster in the form of Pharah seeing her in all her disheveledness had already happened - all she could do was start a rescue mission for this situation. 

 

“No - please stay. I have to get up anyway and get ready… and—“ she noticed the flowers and they distracted her enough to lose her train of thought. “Are these for me…?“

 

Pharah looked at the bouquet dangling from her left hand as if she had forgotten she had them. Then she smiled with the cutest ghost of embarrassment and held them out to Mercy. “Yes, actually…!“ The flowers were a colorful mix with three roses embedded deep in the middle somewhere, as if they had hardly any significance. They were surrounded by petals of white, yellow and pink and the green of leaves and grasses. It was a beautiful arrangement of moderate size wrapped in soft white paper. In winter, these could not have come too cheaply. 

 

She reached out and took them, inhaling the fragrant scent of the bouquet with honest delight. “They are very beautiful, Pharah…!“ She couldn‘t remember when she had last gotten flowers from anyone. The first thing she could come up with was the celebration that followed her graduation from the university clinic - the dean of the hospital had given flowers to every graduate. For a blissful moment, she forgot that she was standing in her own doorway in a bathing robe, toweling slippers and a short nightgown - she just enjoyed the sweet gesture and beautiful flowers. When reality fell back into place, she stepped back carefully and remembered to invite Pharah to her home.

 

“Are you sure?” Pharah asked skeptically. “I don’t want to intrude…!”

 

“And I don’t want you to have come here in vain.” Her tone was decicive and Pharah seemed quite willing to give in.

 

As she closed the door, the real world caught up with her again: Her inappropriate attire and bed head pushed themselves between what could have been a nice moment. “I know I shouldn‘t be looking like this at this time, but I will be on the lateshift for the next two days...“ She was leading Pharah to the kitchen and gesturing to one of the two chairs, then filled a vase with water for the flowers.

 

“Mercy…!“ Pharah exclaimed in reply. “I figured! In fact -  _ I _ am sorry because as someone who works evenings, I could have been smarter. I should have called- well- I couldn‘t have, but I should have figured out something to make this more-“ she fished for the right word, “-predictable.“

 

“Really, it’s all fine,“ Mercy assured her, “I’m the one who opened the door like this.” 

 

“I think that is understandable.”

 

Mercy left it at that and moved on to measuring ground coffee into a filter, spoon by spoon. She had long since given up on coffee pads and cups or fancy self-grinding machines with milk reservoirs and foamers. Those things always had a problem or another and it only irritated her when she could not get her coffee, just because some button was blinking or some silly reminder was flashing on a two-colored  screen. The good old filtered coffee had never given her such pains. 

 

“Wait,” she realized. “You could not have called me?“ Her sleep-hazy mind had at least processed that part well enough to notice a discrepancy. 

 

“No, of course not. I don‘t have your phone number,“ Pharah replied and Mercy gave her a bewildered look, even stopping her coffee-making efforts for a beat. Pharah returned a half-guilty grin. “Well… not… officially. - It isn‘t allowed...“ she admitted ruefully. It was adorable.

 

“Well, consider it transmitted,“ Mercy replied easily as the water began to boil, the smile evident in her voice. She carefully filtered the coffee into two mugs and they proceeded to talk about their coffee preferences. She handed Pharah a mug of pure black coffee, then poured a minimal amount of milk into her own.After that, for a blissful moment, she leaned against the counter and indulged in the hot, roasty goodness with closed eyes. She betrayed herself, however, when her eyes wandered to the clock the very moment she opened them again.

 

“You know, I have this  _ really _ important phone call to make,“ Pharah piped up quite suddenly, putting her mug down. The tone in her voice was over the top, purposely fake and maybe a bit amused. She only dramatized it more as she continued: “It might take a  _ good long while _ and I absolutely  _ can‘t _ be disturbed.“ Both their smiles grew brightein conspiratory, mutual understanding. Pharah continued, despite being only a breath away from giggling: “So, if you have a quiet corner where I can be left alone for like… twenty to thirty minutes you would  _ really _ help me out.“

 

“Thank you,“ Mercy absolved her from the obvious lie. “Why don‘t you make yourself comfortable in the living room while I leave you  _ alone _ . I am  _ sure _ I can find something to do…!“ She showed Pharah the way to the sofa and then disappeared in the bathroom. She was both amused and relieved that Pharah had given her the most transparent excuse ever, obviously trying to make it easy for Mercy to allow herself to be a bad host and take care of her own needs first. 

 

Maybe she should have felt weird about leaving half a stranger to roam her home alone while she was cleaning herself up, changing and refreshing - but somehow Pharah was very easy to trust. That one evening had filled Mercy with a strange sense of familiarity. It almost escaped her that she had known this woman for only a few days. She of course knew that they had met only once thus far. Yet, it  _ felt _ like they had been friends for a decently long time.

 

-

 

Mercy had originally intended to get up ‘early‘ to run some errands and maybe grant herself a moment to read or send out some private emails. Pharah pulled her plans from their anchors in the most pleasant way and they left to spend Pharah‘s free day in the city, pushing errands, books and emails to the back of Mercy’s mind, until she would have to head for work.

 

Being out with Pharah was different. Usually, whenever Mercy she was out in the city, the buildings seemed less like places and more like labels, neatly categorized into the different types of useful services they provided. Money, groceries, makeup, shoes, haircuts, information. That was quite fine for anyone looking to efficiently cross items off a mental list. 

 

However, sharing a city for no higher purpose than the act of sharing, changed that view dramatically. Bank buildings became architecture, pigeons became lively artists of survival, children became adventurers, coffee and ice cream shops morphed into domains of culinary and social enjoyment. Photo booths became islands of silly fun and shops turned into catwalks that drew all sorts of feelings from the viewers - whether it was amazement, amusement, like or dislike.

 

A long street could be turned into a path of conversation and a park bench a little realm of philosophy. The greatest difference, however, was the transformation of stress into relaxation. With a long list in her head and a target in mind, she could only ever push forward to complete her errands until time had run out and the remaining tasks would have to be shifted to another day. With Pharah and that definite resolution not to pursue any tasks today, she could step back and relax - and most of all, enjoy. She could take that moment that was needed to discover beauty beyond the gray asphalt and stony walls.

 

Once they were at that park bench, she stretched her arms over her head, feeling like the afternoon had lasted for many hours more than it did usually. “Oh, this is all so nice!“

 

“What is?“ Pharah was watching her, a smile lingered in her eyes.

 

“Everything!“ Mercy just replied. “Being out here! Not working yet! These new gloves!“ She waved her hands. “Can we do this every day?“

 

Pharah chuckled. “I fear I have to work on most other days,“ she admitted. “But we can repeat that, if you want.“ She pointed to the tower beyond the busy streets and large buildings. “Maybe next time, we can go up there and see what the place is like from above?“

 

Mercy nodded. “Sounds fantastic. You know - I‘ve been living here for four years and I have not once been up there. They say you know the city you live in the least. There is something to that.“

 

“I guess you don‘t go out to discover what you think you already know,“ Pharah agreed. “A pity, really.“ She tilted her head, looking at Mercy with that quiet air of curiosity.

 

“What?“ Mercy asked, feeling a tinge of embarrassment for being watched so closely.

 

“When did you figure you and Joy weren‘t… you know, compatible?“ It was such an abrupt change in topic, Mercy had to sort her thoughts for a moment before she could reply.

 

“I think we knew from the start.“ She leaned back, gloved hands neatly folded on her lap. “We at least never pretended that we were trying to figure out whether or not we‘d date for more than that one evening. But- you know, that wasn‘t the point of the whole endeavor.“

 

“I got that,“ Pharah assured her. “But I was curious. … also … I mean, I was wondering whether you had kissed her.“ She stopped for a moment. “I mean- you were her doctor and all - it sure would have made a difference, right?“

 

Mercy smiled, amused by Pharah‘s reasoning about asking that question in the first place - which she deemed to no be entirely honest. Then she shook her head softly. “That would be because I don‘t kiss on the first date. Ever.“ The edge of teasing in her voice was quite intentional. 

 

“Is that so?“ Pharah wondered curiously. “What about the second?“

 

“Mayyybe…“ she got up, grabbing Pharah by the elbow. “Come on, let‘s go! I want a waffle before I have to go to work.“

 

“A waffle? Mercy, it‘s like 8 p.m.!“ Pharah protested, following.

 

“Not for me!“ 

 

-

 

“Thanks for the afternoon.“ Mercy‘s compliment was honest, but there was more in it than Pharah might have known. It just felt too perfect - it had lasted for just the right amount of hours and she felt she weirdly refreshed and strengthened - which had not happened in a long time. She had had little sleep and already burned off so much energy in the city today, and yet, she felt stronger and more alert than ever.

 

“Thank  _ you _ !“ Pharah replied emphatically. She had placed a gentle hand on Mercy‘s upper arm, as if she wanted to be able to hold her back, should she turn to leave, despite this being their goodbyes. “I don‘t want to run into you after you just woke up again, though. I mean - don‘t get me wrong - you are  _ adorable _ when you are sleepy, but I don‘t need to disrupt your plans like this, if I can help-“

 

“New Year‘s?“ Mercy replied enthusiastically before Pharah could even ask. She, too, wanted to make sure they already knew when they would meet next before they parted.

 

A look of utter regret flooded Pharah‘s features. “I‘m working… the whole place has been booked for a private event and I don‘t think I‘ll even be done even at midnight. More like… three a.m. or so.“

 

Mercy thought for a moment. “You know, I have been asked to jump in on New Year‘s. Nobody who isn‘t really into burn wounds and drunk people ever agrees to that, but I could bear it…“ She tilted her head. “If you‘re free after four…?“

 

It was very sweet to see how Pharah struggled with whether or not she should take that suggestion seriously. She wavered for a moment, then asked outrightly: “Do you mean that? Are you asking for a date at 4 a.m.?“

 

Mercy smiled and nodded. “I might be a little worn out… but I‘d love to see you.“

 

Within a fleeting moment, Pharah switched from disbelief to enthusiasm. “And- would you be hungry? I mean - the Bloom & Carlton will certainly have leftovers and I could bring some and-“ she stopped when a thought seemed to hit her. “Ohh! We could make it like the total  _ opposite _ of the Bloom & Carlton! Yes! That‘s it!“ 

 

Her enthusiasm only grew and Mercy let it, curiously watching where this was going. 

 

Pharah‘s eyes were big with excitement. “How about we take all the good leftover food, get cleaned up, get into something super comfortable to wear, sit on the sofa, and just indulge in the food and have a good, lazy time? No fancy clothes, no quiet, civilized conversation about casual topics, no need to tread carefully!... I‘ll buy us some wine and have it readily chilled at home and we can have our very own, private New Year‘s.“

 

Mercy listened attentively, trying to imagine. “You mean at your place?“

 

“Yes,“ Pharah replied, then stopped herself short, breath held for a second. “I mean - if that‘s okay with you.“

 

“Pharah,“ Mercy replied calmly. “I don‘t know where you live.“ She had meant to add something like ‘and you are moving quite fast‘, but she simply liked that Pharah had fallen trap to that same feeling of familiarity that did not really fit to the fact that they had only ever spent a few hours together so far. 

 

Pharah burst out laughing, realizing her mistake. “I‘ll send you my address. Just bring something comfortable that you want to hop into for the evening.“ She paused, thinking. “And maybe a toothbrush so you can sleep over. Unless you want to go home in the early morning.“

 

Well, now it fit: “Aren‘t you moving quite fast?“ Mercy teased. 

 

She found Pharah‘s worried shock very entertaining. “I really meant  _ sleep _ ! I‘m not that kind of person - and - you know, I‘m more someone who moves according to the moment - and I don‘t know what the situation will be or feel like, so I‘m not making any such plans - and I wouldn‘t ever be that bold and-“

 

“Pharah - I was teasing you,“ Mercy chuckled. “I‘ll bring something to spend the night. And I think all of that is a wonderful idea - just what I need after a stressful workday. Plus, Bloom & Carlton food without the fancy atmosphere does sound very tempting...“

 

Pharah breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe this moment - this tiny and harmless misunderstanding was the only remaining reminder that they weren‘t as familiar with each other‘s antics as they sometimes felt they were. It was refreshing rather than awkward. 

 

“Okay - text me. I really need to go!“ Mercy stepped away from Pharah, from her soft hand on her arm and her dark, deep eyes. The bright white light in front of the hospital driveway left her behind as the silhouette of a dark shadow, even when Mercy had only walked a few steps away.

 

“Wait! Mercy!“ Pharah called after her. Mercy was walking backwards, squinting to see her against the flood light.

 

“Yes?“

 

“Was this a second date?!“ 

 

The simple question with all its hidden meaning made her smile. “No! But New Year‘s will be!“ 

 

“Is there anything else you do on a second date?“ Pharah called over cheerfully.

 

Mercy shrugged exaggeratedly, using her while arms to portray the gesture, so Pharah could see it, even from where she stood and even with the shadows that were encompassing her. “I‘ll move according to the moment!“

 

-

 

Pharah found that whenever she was looking forward to something and impatient abouts its arrival, there were two things she could do to deal with it. She could either keep her eyes firmly on the clock and hope the hours would tick by faster, or distract herself to make the moment she had anticipated feel like it would arrive faster.

 

She had not exactly considered other options and since her strength lay in getting things done, she was at the top of her work game on New Year‘s eve. She tried to be ahead of the patrons as much as she could, arriving with refills and fresh glasses ahead of time. It still did not make things go much faster. Whenever she returned to the kitchen, she found her eyes were betraying her by wandering to the clock - and she felt that tinge of disappointment when it turned out that the next year wasn‘t even here - let alone three in the morning when the Bloom & Carlton would finally close its doors that day.

 

“Hey. Turn off your cell, it‘s getting on my nerves,“ Olivia complained when Phara returned with an empty bottle of champagne in an ice bucket, heading for the fridge in the back for a replacement. Whoever was throwing this party was not exactly on the cheap side.

 

“My cell? I don‘t even have that on me,“ she retorted confusedly.

 

“I know. It‘s buzzing in your damn locker and ruining my rare breaks.“ She rolled her eyes and imitated one of the message tones, repeating it four times with increasing persistence. “Make it stop, newbie. Nobody has the right to barge in on everyone‘s breaks.“

 

“Sorry!“ Fareeha replied, wondering who would message her repeatedly at this time and if anything had happened. She put the bucket down and headed for her locker in the back, fishing out the device to take a look and mute it.

 

_ -6 messages _ -

 

_ “Hello, New Year‘s Date. I never asked how you feel about snow.“ _

 

_ “I know you are busy - I‘ll be too, but right now I‘m sitting in the nurse‘s room and it‘s snowing so nicely. I thought I‘d ask.“ _

 

_ “Hm. Guess you are not able to check your phone.“ _

 

_ “Okay, the front hall is a bit of a mess with people coming in and bringing all the snow and dirt inside. But it‘s getting stressful, so I am looking outside to gather myself, taking my breaks.“ _

 

_ “I was getting distracted by a dosage calculation and some kid threw a snowball at the window. I nearly fell off the chair. Stress makes me skittish.“ _

 

_ “Think we could walk through a fresh patch of snow later? Just a little? Things calm down in the late, late morning hours and it will be pleasantly quiet. Also, I enjoyed walking around with you the other day.“ _

 

Pharah smiled reading each and every message. She hadn‘t expected to hear from Mercy at all. She had not expected a doctor on emergency duty would even find the time - and frankly, she was so absorbed in trying to make time pass with work, she had concentrated on her job - or at least tried to.

 

“Sorry, I had my phone in my locker. Hadn‘t expected to hear from you, so I was spending a few breaks just stretching my back. I like snow! And I‘d love to take a little walk together before we get to my place.“ She hesitated for a moment, then followed it up with a second message. “I thought you‘d be too busy to write. People get awfully drunk today and they all have explosives. It just can‘t be good.“

 

She silenced the ringer and returned the phone to her locker, then stopped herself short. She looked back towards the kitchen door and noticed that nobody was paying attention, so she slipped it into her pocket under her apron before she closed the locker door and returned to work.

 

From then on, her evening turned around quite a lot. Not only was she constantly waiting for that familiar buzz in her pocket and then hoping for an opportunity to hide away somewhere for a minute to reply, she also realized that there was a third way of handling this waiting time, even if it was not the most responsible path: Fan the anticipation by filling it with appetizers about what was to come. 

 

_ “Oh yes. I am very busy. But I take breaks and so does everyone under my supervision. I learned that people work better and more efficiently that way. Looking forward to that walk. What‘s for dinner… err… breakfast(?)...?“ _

 

“Slices of pork with gravy, sautéed— you know what? Here!“ She sent a screenshot of the menu and, in an unseen moment, a picture of a creamy dessert with fresh strawberries, a citrus leaf and an intricately designed chocolate grit.

 

_ “Fancy! And I get to eat that in my sweatpants?“ _

 

“Absolutely. I also have three huge pillows to cuddle up against and I‘m okay with you doing so while having pudding. :)“ She figured Mercy‘s trained surgeon hands would not be likely to make a mess - and even if - it didn‘t particularly matter. 

 

She returned to work thereafter, unable to check the phone for a good long while. In fact, things picked up rapidly because the glasses for the midnight toast had to be out in time for the countdown to the next year. While the guests were busy cheering and hugging and wishing each other a great New Year, she congratulated her own colleagues and they had a little toast in the kitchen among themselves.

 

It wasn’t until almost one in the morning, until she got back to checking her phone. She had missed three of Mercy‘s messages.

 

_ “I thought I‘d get to cuddle up against you? ;)“ _

 

_ “Oh, countdown to excessive burn wounds. I‘ll probably be very busy in a little. Don‘t think I ran off on you. I‘m still looking forward to seeing you at a most unholy time.“ _

 

_ “HAPPY NEW YEAR!“ _ The last message was adorned with little icons of fireworks, champagne glasses and balloons. After that, no more messages had arrived. Pharah disappeared to the bathroom for a moment of peace and quiet. 

 

“Happy New Year to you, too! Sorry, I got busy as well. … and you can cuddle up to whatever you like.”

 

No reply came forth for almost an hour. 

 

“Hope you‘re okay and not too stressed. Let me know if there is anything I can do for you from here. I know a doctor‘s job has to be stressful at this time.“

 

The next thirty minutes after that were pure torture. People weren‘t eating much anymore at this time, though everything was still available to be ordered. Instead, the bartender got increasingly more busy and the waiting stuff a little less so. Serving drinks and snacks and returning empty bowls was far less stressful than serving meals. Yet, no message came forth from Mercy and Pharah could not tell what that might have meant. Maybe it was normal. Maybe something terrible had happened that demanded all of Mercy‘s attention without giving her any breaks. Pharah even checked the news on her phone to make sure that she had not missed any grave accident, as the staff at the Bloom & Carlton was pretty much cut off from any news during work time. 

 

Finally, at 2:30 am, she felt that familiar vibration in her pocket and stole away once again to take a peek.

 

_ “I’ll be okay. But I realized I forgot my charger and my phone is low. I‘d rather be able to call you later so I don‘t miss you. <3 Only a little longer!!!“  _

 

“Aw! Is that a heart?“ Pharah winced in surprise hearing Olivia‘s voice right behind her. She hadn‘t even noticed her entering. She pulled the phone out of her sight, but not fast enough. 

 

“Qué? A doctor?“ She had glimpsed the word in Fareeha‘s last message. “Oh, shit! Is this Blondie?!“ The glee at having being able to pry in her coworker‘s business was fairly evident in her eyes. As she looked at Pharah and realized that the other had nothing to retort, she burst into satisfied giggles. “Oh my god, I am right!“ She turned on her heels without hesitation and headed back to the kitchen, cheerfully calling for the Lena.

 

Pharah rubbed her hands over her cheeks. Well, that had not needed to happen, really. She sent Mercy a quick note that she had received her message and would see her later. Then she returned to the dining hall and tried to act like Olivia didn‘t know all of her and Mercy‘s weird plans for the middle of the night. 

 

-

 

Pharah helped brush the snow off Mercy’s hat and coat. 

 

“Don’t worry, it is just going to melt,” Mercy suggested. “Just put a towel on the floor when we hang it up.”

 

“I don’t want it to leave stains on your stuff,” Pharah protested. 

 

“It was worth it!” the doctor laughed. She looked tired, but happy. Who knew that making a snow angel in the middle of the city would be such a blast for an adult woman at four in the morning? Pharah helped Mercy place her hat, scarf and gloves on a heater to dry, then hung up her coat while Mercy was inspecting the immediate vicinity - namely the corridor of Pharah’s apartment. She seemed to like what she saw, even though the amunt of furniture and decoration at Pharah's place was limited. She carefully poked the piggy bank, curious whether it was heavy (it was). It amused Pharah - it was clear that Mercy didn't think Pharah was watching her. There was nothing wrong with it, however, so Pharah made sure to be extra noisy as she  gathered the bags she had brought from work to give Mercy time to disengage from the piggy bank. The food in the bags was still warm, despite the cold weather, and it was smelling delicious. They brought them to the kitchen and, in an attempt to not be completely trashy, placed them on clean plates. 

 

“Let’s change before we eat!” Mercy replied excitedly. “I’ve been looking forward to eating fancy food in non-fancy wear all day!” 

 

Pharah laughed and agreed - despite coats and winter wear, they were both cold and wet. She figured that Mercy still needed to take a brief shower, having gotten out an hour later than Pharah - and she was not going to deny Mercy the opportunity. She took her time putting her things away and then retreated to the bedroom, leaving the bathroom all to Mercy. Yet, when she stood alone in front of an open, very tidy closet, she hesitated. Picking slacky clothes had never been that difficult. Buying them surely had not ever been done with the idea in mind that she could wear them on a date! And now? Pyjamas? Sweatpants? T-shirt? Sweater? Track suit? She scrapped the last idea and settled on a pair of unobtrusive black sweatpants with a white stripe on the side. She occasionally wore them to sleep or on cold nights, so it served both as home and sleep wear. Perfect for the evening. She found a long-sleeved, blue shirt to go with it. It had a stylized golden bird on the front that looked artsy enough to make her feel somewhat date-ready. Thick socks completed the outfit.

 

She quickly ran a comb through her hair, then returned to the living room, waiting for Mercy to emerge. They had already arranged their plates on the living room table and covered them to keep them warm - making them look almost as fancy is they were. So Pharah spent her time punching the large pillows in shape to be extra snuggly and pour some wine into glasses. She was just looking for a second blanket in one of the living room drawers, when Mercy stepped through the door, the tip of her pony tail still a little wet.

 

Pharah looked up, feeling a tight punch somewhere in the region of her stomach. Dammit - there was a woman in velour in her living room and she looked too stunning in it - especially for the suit being the simply, snuggly wear that it was. The white velour jacket it was slightly tailored. There were large yellow patches on the side, making her shapely waist even more shapely through the curve of the pattern. The jacket was zipped at the front and it fit her perfectly. The laces of the string in her pants were tied to a neat little bow.

 

Mercy shrugged, raising her hands. “Her I am, unfancy at 4:30 am! ... never felt better!” 

 

Pharah gathered her lost mind and the blanket. “You make for some fine unfancy!” she blurted out. She felt weidly underdressed - at a slack night!!!

 

Mercy laughed kindly and slipped onto a corner of the sofa, pulling her legs up and snuggling against a large pillow. Pharah took it upon herself to spread a blanket over her date and hand her one of the plates. The blissful joy on Mercy’s face was enough for another punch in the stomach for Pharah. Evidently, this was the absolute height of Mercy’s night and she didn't hide it. 

 

“Oh my god!” she exclaimed, looking at the plate. “This is a dream come true!” She sniffed at the food and poked it with a fork, perfectly content. 

 

Pharah laughed, took her own plate and tried to one-handedly settle on the other end of the small sofa and unfold the other blanket. Mercy, however, had other plans. She patted the little space between them. “One blanket is enough, yes?” She lifted an edge, and it drew a sweet smile from her host, who proceeded to scoot over and worm her way under that same blanket.

 

\---

 

Pharah had figured that the date would be short-lived - given how early in the morning and after what kind of busy day for the both of them it has started. With a full stomach and that sweet, perfect level of alcohol in them, they had pretty much done everything in their power to make themselves extra sleepy. 

 

At some point, they had convinced each other to muster the energy to finish their wine, remove the dishes and clean themselves up enough to eventually go to sleep, but somehow still ended up on the sofa again - for “just a moment longer” because the sky was clear and in the darkness of a single candle, the graying morning looked beautiful through the window. Slow conversation had settled in - about previous New Year's experiences, sunrises in different places and chirping birds around the world. Under the warm blanket, even the cool tones of the morning seemed warm and inviting.

 

In fact, Mercy was getting a little cute there, being content, tired and slightly intoxicated. She had, without being prompted, snuggled into Fareeha’s arm and made sleepy comments about how very comfortable that was. It was both real and wonderful and incredible. This was the third time they had ever met, and here they were in sleep wear, snuggling under a blanket like an old couple. They weren’t even a couple to start with - but it felt so real and perfect. Pharah had to force herself not to slip and kiss Mercy’s hair or cheek. Instead, she kept her arm around the snuggling blonde and caressed her shoulder in slow, even, soothing strokes. If Mercy was to fall asleep, that was just fine.

 

“Mhh… ten years ago, I’d just have slept like this,” Mercy mumbled. “I still could… my brain says I’m gonna have a backache tomorrow but my body says stay... it doesn't matter... it's good.” She giggled tiredly, as if it was a joke. Pharah wanted to melt away - she was cute, smart, fun, positive, interesting, confident, empathetic and - not to mention - stunningly beautiful. At this point, Pharah did not even doubt that something was going to come from this - with the only question being what exactly and when and how precisely it would happen.

 

Pharah gently smoothed her fingers through that blond ponytail. “You can sleep in my bed. I’m gonna stay on the sofa. You deserve some rest after today, right?”

 

“Right…” She made no attempt to move, but closed her eyes. She was going to fall asleep. Pharah did not mind, but she also did not want Mercy to regret sleeping like this when she woke up in the morning.

 

“Mercy…?”

 

“Mmmh… I’m awake…” She didn’t sound like it at all.

 

“Bed?” 

 

“Just leave me here…” She snuggled closer. Oh, it was tempting - so tempting. Just stay here, hold her, pretend that things that were to happen had already happened...!

 

Pharah debated her options - carry Mercy to the bed where she had planned for her to sleep, or leave her on the sofa?  Was it undignified to carry a grown woman? Pharah did not doubt she could do it physically, but adults were not children that just slept through such an endeavor and enjoyed the magic of falling asleep in one place and waking up in a comfortable bed. She could not have guessed Mercy's take on being treated like a toddler.

 

She could as well just sit here and they’d both fall asleep. It would end up being uncomfortable at some point and they'd have to adjust to the small space. Were they that close yet? Was there a way she could have told Mercy at this point that she was free to take the bed if it got too uncomfortable for her? 

 

Reluctantly, Pharah decided it was best to leave the sofa to Mercy and take the bed herself. Not quite as planned - but not everything had gone as planned that night, anyway (in the best way possible). For example, that kiss she had hoped for on the second date had never happened - and there had not ever been the right moment to attempt it, either. It was food, snuggling and then falling asleep - the opportunity had simply not arisen, but it was not necessarily a bad thing. At least it did not feel like rejection of any kind - more postponed.

 

When it seemed clear from her even breathing that Mercy was asleep and Pharah herself had troubles staying focused, she gently disengaged from the snuggling woman - with a sleepy protest from Mercy. She carefully helped her settle on the sofa, put a pillow under her head and spread the blanket over her. Mercy curled up contentedly, snuggling the blanket and causing Pharah to stare at that level of adorableness. If she had not been so tired and every fiber of her body had screamed for her mattress, she could have stayed and watched indefinitely.

 

‘Dammit… how did you end up alone for Christmas for years? You’re gorgeous…!’ she thought, looking at her. She did grow weak there for a moment - or rather, she figured it was appropriate enough, so she knelt down and kissed Mercy’s forehead.

 

“Happy New Year… . I can’t wait for tomorrow with you,” she whispered, the words drawn from a deep longing she did not know she had. She internally scolded herself - the woman was simply asleep, not off on another continent! Where did this feeling come from so quickly?

 

Mercy was still breathing evenly, likely already off in the land of dreams. All Pharah knew was that she could not think of a single reason why this shouldn’t happen. It felt just as it was supposed to feel and after all the snuggling, the smiles and the excitement, she could not imagine Mercy felt otherwise. 

 

What an odd thing to think on a second date - with no kissing.

 

—-

 

Pharah woke up with a bit of a start - that is, she was fine and drowsy as she usually was when she woke, but then her first thought went to Mercy and she couldn’t help but feel weirdly giddy. At the same time, she could also not help wondering where the woman was, how she was, whether she was awake, whether it was appropriate to check upon her, whether Pharah had slept too long and whether Mercy was bored. So it wasn’t the winter sunlight that woke her up so quickly, it was the thought of Mercy and the potential this first afternoon of the year had for them!

 

She grabbed a pillow, hugged it to herself and smiled. This was going to be  _ something, _ one way or another. Yesterday had felt so good, the way they got along felt amazing, the trust they had built in such a short time was even better. Pharah felt as if nothing in the world could be in her way right now and it was just a matter of time at this point. And she was impatient for it - all of it. That first kiss, for starters, the relationship that would follow after - the adventure they’d go on from here on.

 

What if she did something bold - just got up, kissed her good morning and brought her a mug of coffee, like it was the most normal thing in the world? It was crazy, but it felt so right! 

 

She sat up in bed, determined that today would be the first day of her new, real relationship. Sure, that she’d give Mercy a sweet morning to remember. She decided she’d better get started on sweeping the woman off her feet when the door opened and the angel herself walked in without even knocking.

 

“Good morning…?!” Pharah blurted out, completely thrown off her concept.

 

“Good morning.” Mercy closed the door behind herself and shamelessly crawled onto the bed on her hands and kneed. Pharah watched, confused, but certainly not opposed. 

 

As Mercy knelt by her side, crawling closer like a lean cat, Pharah followed the movewments intently, waiting for where this was going.

 

“I did not get to thank you for last night.”

 

Pharah smiled. “Thank me for what? I did not cook the food or anything.”

 

“You know...,” Mercy replied, stretching the last word. “The care, the cuddling… wrapping me in a blanket, being sweet…?” Pharah was nervously aware that there was a hand on her thigh. 

 

“ _ I _ was being sweet?” She lifted her own hand to gently touch Mercy's arm. She looked into those blue eyes, feeling even more elated than she had been before Mercy had crawled in here. “You were clinging to me like a koala and mumbling sweet things,” she teased gently. Dammit, it felt so right - even the teasing - like they had known each other for ages. And those blue eyes shone with both intelligence and the clear determination of a woman who knew exactly what she wanted. 

 

But even if Pharah would have liked speculate what it was that Mercy wanted, she was not given the time. Before she knew it, the blonde had straddled her and was sitting on the blanket, trapping Pharah’s thighs under her shapely hips.

 

“Well…,” Mercy said, coming closer. “Sweet might just be over this morning,” she purred with intentions so obvious, Pharah nearly forgot how to breathe. That certainly was a side of Mercy she had not exactly anticipated. Especially not this afternoon.

 

Pharah did not get a chance to reply - Mercy’s warm lips captured her without asking, pushing her back against the headboard of the bed. This sure was a relationship on the fast track, but who was she to complain about that? 

 

She laid a hand on the small of Mercy’s back and kissed her in return, eyes closed, feeling a heavenly bliss she could not remember from any time before. The little weight on top of her, the impish, confident dominance with which Mercy just took the kiss she had wanted and the sweet touch of her hands against her sides served to make Pharah feel like her insides were melting away with sweet warmth. This kiss what everything she had dreamed of and more - and she was glad to experience it rested and awake and fully there in the moment.

 

Mercy, after finding she liked the kissing, did not seem very inclined to stop. Rather, she took things up a notch. What started off sweet and curious turned hot and demanding soon after. Pharah, trapped as she was, felt the heat of Mercy’s thighs against her hips and the spark of her desire in her kisses. Eventually, she had to be the one to break away from the kiss - gently so. Mercy evidently neither understood the sudden end to their kissing, nor appreciate it. The look in her eyes said as much.

 

“You are moving very fast for someone who doesn’t kiss on the first date,” Fareeha puffed out breathily.

 

The expression of slight confusion at the stopped kissing turned to impish guilt. “Is that a problem? You just have to tell me, if I'm asking too much.“

 

Pharah grinned. “I wasn’t stopping you - I’m just surprised.” She reached up and brushed Mercy’s long bangs out of her face. “So, no formalities?”

 

“What formalities?” She seemed confused again.

 

Pharah cleared her throat. “Ahem - something like ‘Will you be my girlfriend, Fareeha?’” But she could not completely hide the grin that threatened to burst out.

 

“No,” she replied, narrowing her eyes and switching back to impish. “I can’t become your girlfriend  - I already am.”

 

“Now when did that happen?” Pharah asked, feeling insanely giddy and elated. “I don’t recall you asking…”

 

“Oh, I didn’t.” She seemed perfectly confident and not troubled in the least about that. “I decided that some time last night.”

 

“Oh, okay. If that is so, I guess I have no choice, huh?” 

 

“Of course you do!” Mercy protested. “But were you going to say no?” There was a challenge in both her voice and her expression.

 

“I _should_ say no, just because you are so damn confident about this!” She loved this insolence - the way this was going. If anything, it showed her how much Mercy felt like Fareeha - so free of doubt that this was the right thing to happen. This was meant to be - everything had fallen into place, clicked and locked. This weird certainty had started some time in the restaurant, grown in silence over the last few days and become an inevitable fact during the previous night. Everything else - like the first kiss and getting together - was meant to happen, and asking about it felt almost as silly as asking whether the sun would rise the next day.

 

“But then - what were you looking forward to today, exactly?” Her smug superiority did not deserve reward. 

 

“You  _ weren’t _ asleep,” Pharah protested in realization. She could have sworn Mercy had been completely knocked out when she had said it! 

 

“I wasn’t,” she confirmed. “And it’s always dangerous to make such assumptions… like the one where I am sweet.” That purr returned to her voice - the one that made Pharah both giddy and nervous.

 

“... you are not…?” Pharah asked, almost out of breath from sheer excitement. 

 

Nimble fingers slipped to the hem of Pharah’s shirt. “Why don’t we find out?”

 

—-

 

Snowflakes were falling thickly in the dark night outside of the window. Mercy watched them fall like feathers. They piled into a snowy crown on the street lamp outside. Without asking, the restaurant had always given her this particular table. She had not even realized this until last year when, for once, she had not been sitting here alone. There had been something about Pharah - a gesture or a smile - that had reminded her of Joy sitting opposite of her. Then she had realized that it literally was the same place.

 

After the stories that Pharah had told about the staff speculating about her reasons for coming here on her own every Christmas, this had to have been coincidence. At least the first time. Maybe the second or third time she had booked, they had recognized her and given her the same table.

 

“You seem distracted,” Pharah noticed, watching her over the food, the wine and the candle.

 

“It’s nothing,” Mercy smiled. “Just - it’s always been this table. Even when I reserved for two this time, your colleagues still gave me that same table. I always assumed they did not know who I was or wouldn’t care.” She seemed thoughtful.

 

“ _Former_ colleagues,” Pharah corrected and looked at the familiar doors to the kitchen. “Do you want me to ask? I’m sure Olivia would know more.”

 

Mercy shrugged. “It’s not important.”

 

Pharah eyed her suspiciously - how the question was nagging on her. After almost a year of being around her, watching her, loving and enjoying her, she knew that look. Mercy wanted to know. There was rarely a circumstance where Mercy did not want to know.

 

She waved at Olivia to come to the table. 

 

“What’s up, Fareeha?” Olivia luckily refused to act like they hadn’t spent hours in the kitchen and beyond together, laughing about silly things and sharing gossip with the kitchen maid. I think she could not haven taken another time of her pretending Pharah was just a normal patron who had criminal amounts of money on her credit card.

 

“When I asked you last year, you said Mercy came here every Christmas, right? And you said you didn’t know why, either. I didn’t question it, but if I had to bet, I’d put my money on you being the first person to move the levers of hell to find out about such a strange mystery.” She narrowed her eyes, seizing ‘Sombra’. “In retrospect… seems a little strange this is the one mystery you never solved.”

 

Olivia shrugged, grinning, but not with guilt. “Does it count as a mystery solved when there is a ‘welcome to our new staff’ announcement on the hospital webpage, an obituary written by a patient’s doctor and a reservation on said doctor’s name in our booklets in that very same year?” 

 

Pharah laughed, shaking her head. “No. But it is kind of mean to lie to me about what you know…!”

 

She reflected on it for a moment. “Let’s see… you got a girlfriend, I got a nice tip, Jordio got someone to take the New Year’s shift, Lena got a lot of gossip, Blon- Mercy is no longer lonely and you fly a helicopter for the hospital. _Who_ _exactly_ didn’t win from me not being so clear on the details?”

 

Pharah stared at her, mouth agape, searching feverishly for something to reply to that. She could not  _ possibly  _ have known Pharah would sit down with Mercy and have dinner with her and that this would lead to a relationship, Mercy loaning Pharah the money for that helicopter license, or even Pharah paying for that dinner and getting so worried about the money that she would generously tip Sombra _and_ take that New Year’s shift!

 

“No way - no way you did all of that intentionally!” she blurted out when the opportune moment was nearly over. 

 

Olivia shrugged again. “You were predictable enough for me to see you trying to join Dr. Ziegler.”

 

“No way!” 

 

“What? Pretty blond woman, alone every year, you take pity, then realize your mistake in the eyes of our boss… oh hell, yes! Yes, that was predictable. And it took only a little nudge to get you to pay for the whole thing.” Her grin was huge.

 

“No. Freakin. Way.” She looked at Mercy for help, but her girlfriend just bit her lower lip. “You are… a little predictable sometimes, love…” she conceded.

 

Pharah snorted and grumpily shoved her fork into that last bite of meat. 

 

“What now? You’re angry I got you two together?” Olivia teased, then rolled her eyes. “There you wanna help someone and this is how they thank you!”

 

“No way I am _that_ predictable!” Pharah grumbled. 

 

Olivia raised a finger. “One second.” She rushed off and returned with the big reservation book. Without turning the pages, she held it out to Fareeha not he current date - Christmas. She was, of course, familiar with the calendar book they used for the bookings. There was a column for the date, time and the details of the reservation, a column for the name of the person who had taken the reservation - and when and who - the call back number and the table number the reservation would be assigned to.

 

This entry read:  _ Dr. Ziegler, Party of Two, Table 14 _

 

It was written in Olivia’s handwriting and hinted that she had taken the reservation via telephone on the 27th of December the previous year. No changes had been made to the reservation, which was written in ink. 

 

It did not take Pharah more than a second to realize the implications: Mercy had reserved a table for two on the day they had met for the second time.

 

She looked over at her girlfriend, incredulous. “You always reserve for two, just in case, right?” She couldn’t remember the details on the reservation from when Mercy at appeared here a year ago.

 

Olivia, ever so helpful, nonchalantly leafed back a year. 

 

_ Dr. Ziegler Party of One, Table 14 _

 

Olivia had taken that reservation in January of that same year as well. Pharah stared at it, then at Mercy again.

 

“Just a  _ little _ predictable,” Mercy assured her with a grin. “And maaaaybe… maybe I was hoping for this or that a little…!”

 

Pharah could not help but laugh. In the end, Olivia’s talent for this particular matchmaking could not be denied, even if there was a chance she was often just looking out for her own benefit - in this case, not being short-staffed on New Year’s - and how could she not forgive Mercy for being confident that this would work out (or at least really hoping it would)? 

 

Mercy and Olivia chimed in, noticing that Pharah was incapable of holding a grudge about this. 

 

“So. Jordio lets you know dessert is on the house,” Olivia finally continued their little chat. “And you are invited to join the open celebration on New Year’s.”

 

Mercy and Pharah exchanged glances.  “We are working on New Year’s,” they said in unison, smiling at each other. It wouldn’t be a pleasant day at the hospital - but it was good to have each other to rely on. 

 

“Well, so am I!” Olivia added bitterly, but followed it up with a grin.

 

“You are welcome to eat with us after the shift,” Pharah suggested. “We can have a pyjama party and you can bring the leftovers.”

 

“I won’t be off work until like… three in the morning or so,” Olivia retorted. "Hardly a time to party!"

 

“Neither will we. You can stop by the hospital at four and we can go back together, enjoy the good food and relax together,” Mercy suggested.

 

“Yeah. Just bring the leftovers and the four of us will make it a nice evening.” Pharah added excitedly. Payback could be sweet - literally.

 

Olivia seized her friend suspiciously. “Four?”

 

“Yep.” Pharah winked at her.

 

“Wait, wait - who? A woman, a man? What’s their name?!” Sombra replied, picking up on what was going on here.

 

Mercy and Pharah exchanged glances. “That’s a secret,” Mercy decided. And Pharah added: “For once, you cannot research everything about a person beforehand. That should be one hell of a mystery for you!” 

 

She knew that Olivia had no chance, but to bite this particular type of bait - else the curiosity would kill her. It was perfect.

 

Pharah reached across the table to touch Mercy’s hand in a sweet, intimate gesture. “Those strange, belated New Year's parties after work have never disappointed me. You?”

 

“Never.”

  
  
  


-The End?-

 

~Tell me who you think will be at the party and what their reason is to join the celebrations at 4 am!~


End file.
